


Crazy For It

by pluto



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Kink Meme, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-14
Updated: 2011-12-14
Packaged: 2017-10-27 07:53:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/293419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pluto/pseuds/pluto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawke distracts Anders from his work. Justice does not approve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crazy For It

**Author's Note:**

> Written for kinkmeme. Prompt: Any!Male being a pest until he gets rewarded with sex.

_It is as I said it would be. He is a distraction._

"He's not a distraction," Anders muttered, waving absently. He picked up a penknife and examined the edge, then deftly cut down a goose quill. "I'm here, aren't I?"

 _You have not been 'here' for several days. And as for your thoughts..._

Anders dropped into the battered chair and pulled the little wooden table closer. "Yes, well. Let's not waste the time we do have, shall we? Now, where were we...? _By this logic, if the Maker's will is that we...._ " His words trailed off into a mumble, and then silence, as he and Justice aligned purposes.

"You know, I don't think that 'arduous' is really spelled like that."

Anders jumped, jerking his pen across the page, a jagged scrawl cutting through Justice's latest words. "Hawke! I--I thought you were helping Aveline."

"I'm done now. Obviously. And absolutely _filthy._ Thought I could get you to scrub my back. Only you weren't at the house."

Anders stared. "You came all this way so I could scrub your back--?"

Justice protested, loudly, at the back of his mind. _Make him leave, or I will. He has no purpose, no cause. No idea of the gravity of our--_

"Or maybe I came all this way to get _you_ filthy." Hawke leaned in, teeth white and eyes hooded, his hands creeping up Anders' feathered shoulders to brush dirty fingertips against his neck.

Anders nearly exploded out of his chair. The quill slipped out of his fingers and bounced once before falling onto the dusty floor. Ink spattered the page, and somewhere, in his head, Justice bellowed.

"I--no. Now's not a very good time. Can we, ah, talk later, love?"

"But I'm so dirty now," Hawke purred. He stalked towards Anders, a gleam in his eye.

"I'm serious. You'd really better--"

And then Hawke had him against the wall, a hand on either side of his head. "I'd really better what, Ser Mage?"

He could smell Hawke, all sweat and leather and metal and oil and dirt. And the salty, musky scent of arousal. Anders clenched his jaw. Held his breath. Resisted doing what he so wanted to do, which was grab Hawke and mash their lips together and stick his tongue down the rogue's throat. Oh, he could give the man a bath, all right, lick his way down and--

"Andraste's flaming knickerweasels, no!"

He hadn't realized he'd even thrown the force spell until Hawke landed ass-first in the dirt, a comical look on his face and a surprised "oof" escaping his lips. Anders wanted to ask if Hawke was all right, but Justice took advantage of Anders' own surprise to march him back into the battered chair and drop him down in it.

 _You will FOCUS._

"It's bloody hard to focus now!" Anders muttered between gritted teeth. If he'd only kept with the Ferelden-style robes... He shifted awkwardly, trying to get some relief for his miserably trapped flesh.

 _I will take care of it._

For a brief moment he had the most inappropriate thoughts involving himself and certain blue Fade spirits; he was almost disappointed when instead, he briefly felt Justice take over and his cock went soft, his trousers properly fitting once more. He bent down and retrieved his quill from the floor.

From somewhere behind him Hawke groaned. "You know, that really hurt. Are you getting kinky on me? Not that I mind, of course. I always suspected you were a bit, er, kinked? Isabela mentioned something about a young lady, a transvestite and some sort of shocking--"

Anders ducked down lower over the manifesto and scrawled feverishly. He wasn't listening. He wouldn't listen. He...

 _WHAT are you writing?_

"'Andraste's actions were misinterpreted...'" Anders trailed off. He hadn't written that at all. What he'd written... He felt heat spread down over his throat and across his chest. It had been a long time since anything had made him blush.

"Ooooh, yes, let's," Hawke rumbled, leaning forward to read over Anders' shoulder. "Varric showed me a nice knot the other day--stays good and knotty--and we've got a bit of that elvhen rope... But do you really think that's why they call that 'Andraste's penitence'? Maybe we ought to rig it so that your legs are like so and I'm like so..."

Anders couldn't look away from the deliciously perverted interlocking of Hawke's fingers.

"…And then I could--do you see it? Like this. I think that'd feel _really good_ , don't you?"

Anders let off a little moan. He barely managed to crush it into a word at the last minute. "Mmmhhaybe later...?"

Maker, he really didn't want to wait until later. Even with Justice jumping up and down at the back of his skull, or whatever the dignified Fade spirit equivalent was.

 _PEN,_ Justice intoned. And then, almost disgusted: _Give me one paragraph, or I will 'take care of things' when it is most inconvenient._

"Is that really fair?" Anders groaned.

 _Justice is not always fair._

"One paragraph?" He looked pleadingly at Hawke.

 _Yes._

"Fine." Hawke sighed very dramatically, looked around himself, and then flopped down on a nearby cot. And undid his trouser lacings. And began to take himself in hand, stroking lazily, and _whistling_ , the bastard.

With great difficulty, Anders tore his eyes away. But he could still hear. He could hear the soft shushing of skin on skin, the faint creak of leather trousers shifting, the rhythmic jingle of a loose buckle as Hawke's elbow passed over it. He sucked in a breath, dipped his quill into the ink, struggled to write. "'As we fight for our...'" He worried his bottom lip between his teeth, willing the pain to block out Hawke's increasingly eager efforts. "'Even those not embroiled in our plight must see...'"

Hawke was beginning to groan, and Anders' hand unsteadied. "'This is a cry for freedom shared with every man who has been enslaved...'"

"Anders," Hawke grunted. "If you don't... hurry..."

"'…And no man or woman or elf who cherishes these unalienable rights should...'"

"Anders! Oh, Maker, I'm--!"

"'...turn away DONE!'" Anders all but threw the quill away from himself and launched towards Hawke on the cot just as Hawke arched up off of it, groaning, eyes rolled back up in his head. "Oh."

Hawke slumped back on the cot, and his eyes opened lazily. "Anders," Hawke said, his voice husky.

"I know," Anders said, dejected. "Too late."

Hawke grinned. "You're too bloody easy, mage." He laughed, holding up his clean hands. His laughter turned into a half growl. "Now get up here before I make you go back and write 'I will not make Hawke wait so long for a good filthy fucking' a hundred times."

"You are so much less scary than Justice," Anders said, climbing onto the cot, absently hoping he'd locked the clinic door.

"But am I sexier?"

"More annoying, perhaps..."

"Hm, I suppose I can deal with that." Hawke pulled Anders down into a slow, lazy kiss that left Anders breathless. "I do love driving you mad."

Anders grinned. "Two can play that game," he said, and proceeded to show Hawke just how it was done.


End file.
